


Sweet Treats

by Gimmesumsuga



Category: Supernatural, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/M, Memories of Young Jared, Mentions of illegal drinking, One Night Stands, POV First Person, Pre-Genevieve, RPF, Takes places alongside filming of Season 3, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-27
Updated: 2017-01-14
Packaged: 2018-09-12 18:27:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9084286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gimmesumsuga/pseuds/Gimmesumsuga
Summary: I’d known that Jared would be trouble from the very moment I’d seen him.It’s as true today as it was back then, six years ago when I’d clapped eyes on him across a dancefloor in California.  He’d stood out instantly even though the club was choked with sweaty, grinding bodies; at 6 foot something I suppose that’s not entirely surprising.   His stature made him look like he belonged there, surrounded by the women undeniably drawn to him, but the stiffness of his slightly-too-big shirt and nervous dart of his eyes gave him away.  He was an overgrown puppy let out to play, overwhelmed and entranced by the bass and the alcohol and the tiny skirts.  Perhaps it was his very first time.Nevertheless I’d been unable to stop my gaze drifting back to him time and time again, and when his eyes had  found mine that first time; when he’d looked and smiled and those dimples had appeared… no, he was most definitely not old enough to be out so late.  Not with that little boy blue grin.





	1. Chapter 1

I’d known that Jared would be trouble from the very moment I’d seen him.

It’s as true today as it was back then, six years ago when I’d clapped eyes on him across a dancefloor in California.  He’d stood out instantly even though the club was choked with sweaty, grinding bodies; at 6 foot something I suppose that’s not entirely surprising.   His stature made him look like he belonged there, surrounded by the women undeniably drawn to him, but the stiffness of his slightly-too-big shirt and nervous dart of his eyes gave him away.  He was an overgrown puppy let out to play, overwhelmed and entranced by the bass and the alcohol and the tiny skirts.  Perhaps it was his very first time. 

Nevertheless I’d been unable to stop my gaze drifting back to him time and time again, and when his eyes had  found mine that first time; when he’d looked and smiled and those dimples had appeared… no, he was most definitely not old enough to be out so late.  Not with that little boy blue grin. 

I was old enough that I should have known better.  I should have forced myself to look away or to find someone more age appropriate but I’ll admit; the cocky quirk of his lips that came from the confidence born of youth and the way his Adam’s apple bobbed as I grinned coyly back… it’d made me throb between my legs before we’d even touched. 

When I’d finally made my way through the crowd to him and gotten in close enough to curl my palm around the back of his neck, pulled him downward far enough to press my lips to the shell of his ear and say hello, I’d found myself wondering just how many drinks it’d taken to tint his cheeks so adorably rosy red.  Not enough to slur his words, which was reassuring.

He’d introduced himself enthusiastically; Jared was his name.  I’d smiled up at him, used the crowd around us as an excuse to press my body close, and teasingly asked him if his mother knew he was out so late.  He’d had the good graces to feign a guilty expression that didn’t last long; soon he’d tilted his head and those dimples were back, and so were the butterflies in my stomach.  If his bangs had been a little longer they’d have been falling straight into those lovely, hazel eyes. 

I’d licked my lips and wondered what I’d done to deserve such a sweet treat, thrilled to the core as he’d wrapped a free arm around my waist and pulled me even closer.  Nineteen - almost twenty - was the age he confessed with an accompanying mischievous expression; a look that faltered my mouth had popped open in false surprise.   I’d assured him it was alright and draped both my arms around his hips for good measure, and when we started to dance his gorgeous little smile soon reappeared. 

I’d neglected to mention that I was seven years his senior.  I don’t think he’d have cared either way once my hands had snaked their way under his shirt and onto his the lean, sinewy muscles of his lower back.  Jared hadn’t got much rhythm, that much was obvious, but there hadn’t been much co-ordination needed for the slow grind of our bodies; more courtship ritual than dance.  

If it weren’t for the biting of his lip I would’ve thought Jared was being gentlemanly; resisting kissing me for what’d felt like forever.  As it was, I think he’d been nervous.  He’d certainly not put up a fight when I’d taken hold of his open collar and used it to pull his kitten-soft lips onto mine.  His tongue had worked its way into my mouth, a badly concealed erection pushing against my stomach not long after that, and before I’d had chance to second-guess it we were hailing taxi back to my place.

Jared wasn’t very experienced, but what he lacked in skill he certainly made up for with enthusiasm.  He’d had me giggling at the speed he’d stripped out of his clothes, breathing hard and flushed from head to toe, until I’d actually stopped and looked at him properly.  When I’d done that, when actually taken in the sight of his long, lithe body… well, the laughter had abruptly ended.  He’d swallowed all the noises that followed, consuming every breathy sigh I made as he’d undressed me with surprising deftness. 

He’d been a quick learner and so very eager to please; spread out at his mercy, an instrument to play with his long fingers and quick tongue, my ability to speak quickly forgotten in favour of groaning his name through bitten lips.  He’d had stamina, too, more than I’d expected, making neanderthal noises as he taken me from behind; hard and deep and on the verge of frantic.  I’d screamed my orgasm into my pillow, babbling incoherently with pleasure by the time he came too with a grip on my hips so hard that the marks had still been there in the morning. Those precious bruises were the only thing that’d been left once the sun had come up.

We’d had sex twice more, each time even better than the last, before finally falling asleep in a tangle and sweaty limbs.   When I’d rolled over in the morning, still blissed out from being so well and truly sated, the bed beside me was empty.  I’d reached out with a hopeful hand but found only chilly, rumpled sheets where I’d expected a firm body to be.  I’d been disappointed but not overly surprised; we hadn’t even had a real conversation, after all, but Jared wasn’t my first one-night stand in California, and he wouldn’t be my last.  He was definitely the best, though; the delicious soreness he’d left behind constantly reminded me of it for the next two days at least. 

Now I’m face to face with him again, so many years later, it feels almost like it was yesterday.

“Guys, this is Faye Carbin.  She’s covering Shannon’s maternity leave.”  Juliana, one of my fellow make-up artists, steps to the side to introduce me properly and I immediately straighten my back as two sets of eyes turn to me.  “That’s Sarah, you’ve probably met.”

“Yeah, we have.”  The dark-haired woman she gestures to nods her head and gives me a warm smile.  She’d been part of the panel that interviewed me and dissected my portfolio. 

“That’s Jensen.”

“Hey.”  The man at the far end of the trailer smiles politely, a paper spread across the legs he’s got resting on a chair opposite, momentarily forgotten.  He’s handsome in his own right with his startlingly green almond shaped eyes, but I honesty it’s a struggle to focus on anything but the man closest to me. 

“And this is Jared.”  

Oh, undoubtedly it is.  Jared’s grown; lost the puppy fat and filled out with muscle instead.  The jaw that was soft and sweet when I met him is chiselled and sharp, his hair longer now too.  He’s still got those curtained bangs but the back is thick and fluffy and sticks out at odd angles, and yeah, he’s gotten older but he’s still ridiculously adorable; even more so when he waves a hi, extending a bag of sweets in my direction.

“Nice to meet you,” he tells me without a flicker of recognition in the eyes that give me a once over, up and down. 

“You too,” I smile, taking a red jelly sweet and popping it whole into my mouth, trying to ignore the tornado of nerves swirling in my stomach.   Jared fixes a chewy green snake between his teeth, grinning around it, and the reappearance of that smile I know I’ve dreamt about almost brings me to my knees even after all this time.

Yeah… Jared is trouble. 


	2. Chapter 2

“Look up,” I instruct softly and Jared does just so, the fluorescent trailer lighting bouncing off the angle of his cheekbones as I dab the lightest of concealer under his eyes. 

“So you’re Irish?” he says after a moment, a question rather than a statement of fact.  

“Dublin born and raised.”  I’m trying so hard to concentrate on each individual task, each stroke of my brushes, rather than his handsome face as a whole.  If I did that - if I took a single moment to appreciate how close we really are - I’d probably end up a little weak at the knees. 

“You lived in Canada long?” I have to take a moment to pause my work as he tosses another jelly sweet into his mouth. 

“Four years in Cali, two in LA.”  Almost, almost done.  Just a few more minutes and I can finish up and re-learn how to breathe in private, “Been here a couple months.”

“Long time away from home huh?”  I nod, blending with my fingertips, trying not to inhale through my nose.  Every time he speaks I get a waft of his sugary breath, and my mind can’t help but wonder if his lips would taste just as sweet.  “Hasn’t dulled the accent.”  I laugh lightly, shaking my head.

“It’s a tough one to shake,” I smile as I straighten up, finally finished.   Jared grins back up at me, even prettier now his very minor flaws have been glossed over by yours truly; not that he needed an ounce of it.  “You’re good to go.” 

“I like it.”  His voice stops me mid-turn, glancing over my shoulder back at him, “The accent, I mean,” he adds, his expression coy but eyes glinting mischievously.  I give him a half-smile back, stomach flip-flopping stupidly at the smallest of compliments. 

“I know you do,” I murmur under my breath, sliding my make-up brushes back into their individual pouches, determined not to turn and watch as he rises and leaves the trailer with sincere thanks. 

Yeah, I remember just how much Jared likes my accent; the way he’d purred against my ear, telling me to moan his name again, loving my Irish lilt.  It was so good, he’d said, so sexy; though apparently not sexy enough to remember.  I know we’ve not exactly been reunited for long; half an hour is barely anything at all but… I don’t know, some part of me had thought… maybe?

Who am I kidding?  I was a drunken one night stand that he’d ran out on before he’d even seen me in the daylight.  Just another girl, probably one of many since then, and I can hardly talk; my past isn’t exactly squeaky clean.  Still, Jared wasn’t one easily forgotten. 

Once Jared and Jensen are gone Sarah and I get a few minutes to ourselves to chat before a steady stream of secondary cast members arrive.  She’s friendly and sincere and has a wickedly dry sense of humour, and seems impressed by my keenness to learn.  Though I’m slightly older – I definitely have a few more crow’s feet lurking around my eyes than her – she’s worked far more with special effects make up during her career.  It’s a big gap in my CV, one that I’m keen to fill, and working on Supernatural seems like the perfect chance to do so.

The filming schedule of my first day is mercifully busy enough to keep me from thinking too hard about my other foolish reason for being so eager to take this job, but when that reason keeps needing to be retouched every hour or so I still end up feeling more of an idiot with each hour that ticks by, busy or not, because watching Jared work is doing absolutely nothing to help my schoolyard crush. 

He’s so much better than I’d ever thought he’d be, far more than just a pretty face, and I find myself enthralled even though we spend the whole morning standing on the side-lines of a pretty light-hearted, all-dialogue scene.  I smile along with Sam and bite my lip to keep from laughing when he does, and when he’s out of shot and Jared’s messing around with Jensen and the camera crew I end up laughing in earnest, blushing when he smiles he my way and hoping that no one noticed. 

I’d been fairly keen on this job in the first place, don’t get me wrong, but when I’d looked into it more and seen the cast, saw the man that Jared had grown into… well, the decision was made for me.  I pursued it with dogged determination and not a second thought, uprooting myself and abandoning the foundations I’d spent two years carefully laying down in LA.  The contacts, the job opportunities.  All because of a memory of that sweet little boy smile.

I certainly don’t divulge that particular reason for my move to the other make-up artists over lunch; a one night stand is hardly motivation enough to haul my life a thousand miles north to nowhere, no matter how good of a lay Jared was.  Almost all of the girls are younger than me, fresh-faced and friendly, and I end up spending a good portion of our break patiently answering that no, I haven’t got a husband and nope, I haven’t got a boyfriend.  No, no kids either.  Just little old me in my two bed apartment that’s woefully half-furnished because I relocated in such a rush.

I smile half-heartedly into my salad, skewering a piece of romaine as the conversation moves on without me. 

Wow, what a catch I am; the wrong side of thirty and chasing a long-lost one night stand who’s only marginally older than one of my nephews back home.  Honestly, what did I think was going to happen?   Instant recognition and chemistry, a re-ignition of that spark I’d felt when we’d first laid eyes on each other that’d ultimately lead to repeat performance of my most favourite of evenings?   At the very least I’d hoped he’d have some vague remembrance of the girl that had taken him home; the girl from before the smile lines had started to stick, who could still eat that extra bagel without needing to shy away from the scales the next day.   There’d be a little awkwardness and embarrassed laughter that’d become easy smiles, eventually fading into a sense of camaraderie and some light flirting.  That’d do, I’d be happy with that. 

As the days pass and one episode rolls into another it doesn’t look as though that’ll happen, though, and why should it?  Jared has plenty of other women here that’d be as eager for his attention as I am – women that I help to make even more youthful and attractive on a daily basis – why should he even notice me past the brief encounters we have?  I’m no more important to Jared than a hovering insect, dabbing at his immaculate face and coveting the view whilst he has his eyes closed.  Utterly unimportant.

It’s such a depressing thought that I find myself loitering around the dessert section of our catering station mid-scene one morning, searching for a sugary treat to boost my mood.  I’m so absorbed in debating whether it’d be too greedy of me to take a cookie or two as well as a bowl of maple cinnamon rolls that I barely register the person that comes to stand at my side. 

“If it helps, those rolls are amazing.”  I guess my indecisiveness must show as I stand with my arms folded, tapping my chin and staring at a bowl of jello so hard that you’d think all the answers to life’s questions were lurking under its gently wobbling surface.

“Just trying to decide if the extra cookie is worth the run on the treadmill later,” I reply jovially, unfolding my arms and turning my head to see whoever has taken my side.  As it happens, I end up looking directly at an instantly recognisable plaid covered chest and instantly I feel my stomach twist with nerves, dessert forgotten.

I tilt my face upward smile haltingly at the large man beside me whose eyes are shining greeny-gold in the morning sunlight.

“Make it a double choc chip and it will be,” he smiles, tilting his head in their direction as his cheeks dimple beautifully, matching the one on his chin.  I take a breath to steady myself, scolding it for catching in my throat on the inhale.

“Thanks for the tip.”  I automatically reach for one, following his recommendation unthinkingly, all the while aware of his eyes on the side of my face. 

“Mind grabbing me a box of those rolls to go?”

“Oh- yeah!”  Chocolate cookie crumbs spew from my mouth as I hastily grab a napkin to set it down; Jared was right, they really are tasty.

“Kinda got my hands full.”  He shrugs his shoulders to call attention to the stack of polystyrene boxes clasped between his large hands and as I open up another for his rolls I end up grinning.

“Not quite enough there, huh?” I tease, spooning the sticky, syrupy dough balls into the container and trying my best not to spill.

“I’m a growing boy.”

“I can see that.”  I fix the lid and turn to see him stood there looking down at me with an amused smirk, and it’s so disarming that I forget myself for a moment, polystyrene clutched in both hands, mouth falling open a fraction.  It’s really not fair for one person to be so good-looking; how are the rest of us supposed to function? 

“Thanks.”  His voice helps snaps me out of it, more or less, and I swallow hard, looking to the ground rather than up and into his eyes.  “Just put it-“

“On top?”

“Yeah, just-“

“You got it?”  The process of balancing the last box on top of the others is really more difficult than it needs to be, and me almost dropping it when our fingers accidently brush doesn’t help anything, but finally Jared has a firm hold on all five containers. 

“Got it.”  He tucks the top one under his chin to hold them steady, his looks so adorable as this stooping, over-encumbered giant, that my toes are probably curling inside my shoes.  “Thanks, darlin’”  I have to lean back on the table with both hands to keep myself standing, suddenly weak at the knees and hot all over from his throw away term of endearment, and I swear he must notice, giving me one last knowing smile and lingering look before he leaves.

It takes me a good minute or two to collect myself, murmuring under my breath as I walk about ridiculously handsome actors and their stupid smug smiles, but by the time I get back to the make-up trailer I’m pretty sure the redness of my cheeks has gone if nothing else. 

Sarah’s face drops in disappointment as soon as I cross the threshold empty handed, and it’s only then I remember my promise to bring back enough sugary snacks to keep us buzzing till lunch time.

“Don’t tell me there weren’t any left?”

I blame Jared entirely.


End file.
